The Stark Brothers
by spellmugwump97
Summary: Tony Stark has a little brother. Of course, he's not so little anymore, and Tony only found out about him when he dug out some ancient adoption paperwork in a box of junk when he turned eighteen. But, even though Harry can do magic as well as science, the Stark brothers seem to fit together like two pieces of a well-made puzzle. Pity the Avengers had to get involved, really.
1. Prologue

**PROLOGUE**

_Help When You Need It_

* * *

The evening was dark and cold despite the general warmth and light of the month of May. Perhaps the reason for the dismal weather was that this particular night was occurring in England, and English weather certainly leaves a lot to be desired on the most part - or, perhaps the weather was reflecting the mood of the scruffy and exhausted looking teenager that was trudging down a residential area called Muswell Hill in the North of London.

The boy - Harry was his name - was the object of quite a few odd looks from some of the people living in the houses on the street he was walking down, as the area he was in was quite affluent with its perfectly trimmed hedges and polished front doors. So it was that the residents of the street never really tended to see grubby looking teenagers limping past their small front courtyards.

One elderly man, who was watering his small flower box before retiring indoors for his evening snack, saw the boy, and feeling sympathetic towards him given the fact that he remembered looking like that before he began working for a living and "got his arse in gear", decided to ask whether he was all right.

The boy - Harry - stopped and looked to the old man when questioned about his well-being.

'I - er -' Harry stuttered. 'I'm looking for my brother. Do you know number forty-eight?' He had a rather odd voice - it was a strange and eclectic mix of both American and English, as if he was from one country and then had lived in the other for a long time.

'Yes,' The old man replied, smiling, to which Harry returned in kind half-heartedly. 'Just a couple of doors down that way.'

'Thank you.' Harry said sincerely, before once more attempting to smile. Apparently, something was preventing him from putting too much effort into anything much, and so he turned and carried on walking after his failed attempt of cheerfulness.

The elderly man finished watering his flowers and smiled bemusedly, wishing the strange, limping teenager all the best.

Harry stood outside of the tall house, steeling himself for what was to come. He could already feel himself breaking inside, slowly - the battle was taking it's toll on both his head and body.

Of course, some were much more noticeable than others. His ankle would probably never be the same again, given how long he had left it without medical care and the fact that he had been actively using it whilst it was mangled. His chest - the place where Voldemort had sent the killing curse - ached without relenting, a permanent reminder as to what had happened just a day previously, when the battle that had given so much but taken so much more had happened.

Harry was sure that he had somehow fractured or bruised one or more of his ribs, judging by the way that it hurt so much to breathe - but it was the pain of the deaths of his friends that hurt so much more. He could only be grateful that his brother was safe, alive and well - even if he was bound to be angry and secretly hurt that Harry seemed to have completely cut him out of his life for the past year to go hunting for Horcrux's.

Not that he knew about the Horcrux's, despite knowing about the Wizarding Word. Harry let out a low and humourless laugh. His brother didn't even know about Voldemort's return, let alone the battle that had just taken place.

Shaking himself out of his thoughts, Harry raised his hand and despite his hand wavering and hesitating slightly, he pulled the lion door knocker and let it fall back against the brass base of it with a loud clack that Harry was certain his older brother would hear.

It was not one minute later that the heavy door opened to reveal a hassled looking Pepper, talking quickly on the sleek phone that she held between her tilted head and her shoulder, with one hand on the door knob and the other holding an expensive looking tablet that Harry hoped wouldn't blow up with his presence.

'I'm sorry, but Mr. Stark's official meeting hours are between - no, I assure you Sir, no amount of money would - yes, I take note _twice daily_ of the stock markets, but they are not an indicator of - _Harry_?'

Pepper gawped at Harry as the voice on the other end of the phone got progressively more angry before hanging up with loud and obscene swear words. Pepper paid them no mind as she placed the phone roughly on the windowsill.

'Oh my God,' she said slowly, taking a step back in shock. 'Oh my _God_ why are you - how did you - Tony! _Tony_! Get here _right now_! TONY!'

Harry tensed as he heard the whining shout of his brother echo down the stairs. '_Pepper_, you know I'm trying to program -'

The thumping sounds of Tony's footsteps coming down the stairs halted as soon as he saw Harry standing stiffly in the door frame. In a rather uncouth manner that Harry was sure the world would be shocked to see Tony Stark pull, Tony's jaw hung off his skull gormlessly with his eyes positively popping out of his head in shock.

'Harry …' he said quietly, and Harry closed his eyes, hands dropping to his sides limply as he anticipated his brother's angry shouts. He heard the metallic crashing sound of the strange contraption that Tony had been holding in his hand whilst walking down the stairs falling to the tiled floor, and his hands clenched into fists just a second before a strong force and a warmth covered him completely.

'Harry, why the hell - where have you been? I was so damn worried about you I couldn't get to you for a whole year, you know how bad that makes me feel as an older brother I tried everything I couldn't even - you had a really expensive Christmas present too why'd you have to be away for Christmas oh my _God_,_ where the hell where you_ -'

Harry opened his eyes in shock. 'You're not - aren't you angry? You should be -'

'_What_?' Tony stepped away from Harry and straightened his shoulders, rubbing his nose gruffly. 'Why would I be angry? You wouldn't have left for a year without good reason - I mean, for the first month I was pretty damn pissed off when you replied to _literally nothing _but then I realised that Harry wouldn't do that and he would tell me if something was _really_ bad but then I thought no he wouldn't, he'd pull some hero trash like that time at the beach when he -'

'_That's enough_!' Harry said loudly, clearing his throat as he felt a hot redness creep up from his neck and onto his cheeks. 'Nobody wants to relive that. I was _twelve_.'

Tony grinned and threw his arm around Harry, to which he winced and shrugged off his brother's shoulder when he gave Harry an odd look.

'Harry …' Said Tony slowly, eyes uncharacteristically concerned. 'Why …?'

'Inside.' Harry replied shortly, not caring if his tone was cutting - and it seems, neither did Tony, who simply looked around briefly at the quiet and now empty street and gestured for Harry to enter the spacious entryway.

It was half an hour later, of which was filled with annoyed tea making ('Why can't you just drink coffee, you're not even English -' 'First eleven years of my life Tony, first eleven years.') and lots of hugging off of Pepper before she retired, exhausted to her room, when Tony finally stopped Harry from skirting around the edges of the issue.

'What is this really about?' Tony asked, crossing his arms as they sat beside each other on a plush and expensive looking sofa. 'You turn up after a year of nothing? Where did you go? _Why_ did you -'

'He came back.' Harry blurted out, the complicated and nicer ways of breaking the news evading his conscious thought as the blunt statement left his suddenly dry lips.

There was a long and pregnant pause before a slow questioning of who emerged from Harry's left. Harry gulped.

'The - you know my, er, adoptive parents. You know they got murdered, yeah?' Tony nodded, frowning. 'The man - Voldemort - came back.'

'But - but he died! Some magic voo-doo killed him off didn't it?' Spluttered Tony, quips that Harry would usually glare at him for leaving his mouth without a spec of thought. 'Did they lie to you? Tell you that he was gone when -' A dark look passed over the older Stark's face.

'No …' Harry interrupted. 'The entire world thought he was dead. But he - well, he ensured he would be able to come back. Made him less than human, but he was still alive. That's all he cared about, really.'

Normal Tony would have been firing questions left, right and centre at Harry by this point in their conversation, but this Tony was not normal Tony. _This_ Tony was calm, not the public's Tony but the real Tony - the man who, when still a teenager, had taken in a small boy who had been neglected by his not-so-related relatives when an old adoption paper found after his parents' death revealed there was another Stark across the pond. This Tony knew how to do one thing well above anything else - be a big brother. Even if he didn't quite and probably never would know it himself.

A long silence was occupied by the crackling of flames in the large open fireplace, technology strangely absent in the old antique-like room surrounding the brothers.

'You say it in the past tense,' Tony said hesitantly. 'You say he was alive. Did somebody find a way to finish him off for definite? Was it that Dumbledore guy?'

Harry felt the tears of guilt and anguish of his deeds and the happenings of the past year well up, unwanted, in his eyes.

'I did, Tony,' Came the chocked voice of Harry that even he didn't recognise. 'It was me. There was a prophecy, and he believed it even though - even though it wasn't even meant for me because they weren't even my real parents. It wasn't meant to happen to me, it didn't even apply to me but he thought - everyone thought that I was the _Chosen One_. The Saviour. But - he came back when I was fourteen and he killed - he killed so many people, Tony, I can't even think of them all and he killed my Godfather and Dumbledore and Fred and Lupin and Tonks and they just had a baby, Tony, and I'm it's Godfather -'

Harry was crying; there was no denying the hot, salty tears that were wetting his face. Tony didn't call him weak, and he didn't even seem to mind, however - Tony just stared at Harry as if he was seeing right through him, eyes looking distant and glassy and so dull, so lifeless without their usual spark of innovation and imagination behind them.

Harry was met with more silence and so he carried on, relieved to finally be able to spill out his innermost feelings and the events of his life that weren't known by the Daily Prophet and the entire world that seemed to read it either.

'There was a battle, Tony, but so many people died and the castle was destroyed and I don't know what to do anymore … I killed him, Tony. I'm a murderer. He was bad; he was evil, but I still killed him. And I killed everyone else in that _stupid _battle too, because if I hadn't - I should've gone into that bloody forest sooner and the nobody would - more people would be - they'd be there for their son and he wouldn't feel even a little bit like I used to -'

His voice caught in his throat as it seemed to run out, his last energy stores spent on the exhausting task of speaking coherently - even if the likelihood was that none of that made sense to Tony.

Positively sobbing, the only words Harry could get out of his mouth were apologies to the dead who were most likely sneering down at him in disgust, and to those that had lost their loved ones - like George.

A warm and comforting arm wrapped around his shoulders and pulled him closer towards his brother.

'So you really have been through the wars,' Tony said half-heartedly, Harry without the energy to say something clever or useful.

'I killed them.' Harry murmured. 'It's all my fault …'

Tony's tone changed to deadly seriousness abruptly. 'You didn't kill them Harry, I know that and I'm not even involved. Did you pull the trigger? Did you cast that killing spell at those people?'

'No,' Harry said, lowering his head and going into hiss shell once again. His reluctant answer seemed to stir something in Tony, as Tony pulled him arm tighter around his little brother.

'You are not at fault for this,' Tony said angrily. 'You got rid of this Voldemort guy. Tell me, how many people would he have killed if you hadn't stopped him? Exactly - hundreds more.'

Harry offered a watery smile, just before he coughed suddenly and wheezed from his injured rib and chest.

'Harry!' Tony shouted in alarm, standing up quickly with his arms flapping slightly as he tried to think of what to do.

'It's okay,' Harry said blearily, clutching his side. 'I've just got a bruised rib I think, I must have fallen on something -'

'You were in a battle, for God's sake Harry, why didn't you get it fixed up sooner? Anything else you want to tell me before you keel over and collapse?' His brother's voice sounded worried - something that Harry could hardly remember ever happening in all the years he had known of his brother.

Harry decided to come clean. It would work out better in the long run, he thought.

'I may have mangled my ankle,' He said, grimacing as he admitted to his injury. 'I mean, I haven't used it _much_ - you don't have to get bandages seriously Tony -'

Tony, now standing in the door frame with a small mound of bandage clutched in his hand with some kind of blue tape in the other, sighed.

'Harry,' he said, with another long-suffering sigh. 'When will you realize that it's my _job_ to worry. I'm your older brother, it's what we do.' Tony rolled his eyes and walked out of the room, stomping up the stairs two at a time. 'Don't move!' He shouted down, and Harry grinned, previous worries banished to the back to his mind despite their severity.

It was nice to have family.

* * *

**- Specific ages and circumstances will be established later on in the story, but for now, just know that Tony is younger than he is in the film and that the Harry Potter timeline has been moved up to meet in the middle with the Avengers. This is purely to make the timeline work; ages and such won't be important to the plot, but I wanted to get it all straightened out anyway.**

**I have an important question! Would you like this story to be during the Avengers film, or just after with a new villain eventually?**

**Thank you so much for reading this, and apologies for any spelling and/or grammar mistakes!**


	2. Chaotic Greetings

**CHAPTER 1**

_Chaotic Greetings_

* * *

All Harry had wanted was a nice, simple visit to his brother's now completed tower, considering last time he had been it was still in construction. No fuss, no drama, no alien species invading the city - just himself, his brother, Pepper, a sassy AI and the shocked face of Tony when Harry told him that he had proposed to Ginny randomly after she was cleaning a nasty cut he had gotten after a raid at four in the morning because he, once again, refused to go to hospital.

He didn't even have a ring, but Ginny was happy anyway. She got to pick the perfect ring later, after all.

Harry, of course, never got quite what he wanted. It seemed that whoever organised his fate had decided to have a right old laugh at Harry's expense today, and instead of peace, had ordered a huge dollop of alien with a not-so-small side order of destruction for him to deal with.

Harry stopped for a second to absorb everything that was happening around him.

There were huge, scaly looking creatures drifting through the air in the manner of large worms, the sides of their armoured bodies carelessly cutting into buildings and destroying windows as they made their way deeper into the city before - oh.

And there was a huge, bizarrely green man-thing that had rippling muscles and one hell of a roar taking down the even more massive scaly worms, as Harry had dubbed them. It appeared that whatever it was seemed to be defending the mutilated city, and so Harry thought he would let it be. (He was kidding himself into thinking that he had the skill to take it down. He didn't, vanquisher of Voldemort or not.)

One of the many things that looked like much smaller versions of the flying worms (thank God they were smaller) nearly knocked Harry over, and it was only the quick reflex's born of Oliver Wood's rigorous Quidditch training that saved him from getting his head lopped off.

It was the pumping of adrenaline and the thrill of battle that made Harry whip out his wand and cast a quick and deadly _Sectumsempra_, Statute of Secrecy be damned. After all, he was sure Kingsley would be far more upset if Harry died because he upheld the stupid Statue than if he didn't. After all, if the worst came to the worst, they had memory charms.

Every so often, through the haze of energy in which Harry conducted himself throughout the invasion, Harry glanced up at the building with his last name plastered across it, seeing the source of the portal and the tiny people that stood up there battle and talk. He found it mildly shocking but not shocking at all that the letters slowly got demolished before only the "A" was left.

That was probably symbolic in some sense, but Harry had no idea how.

Constantly, Harry kept a keen eye out for his brother. Even though he knew about Tony's suit intimately, and all of it's ramifications affectionately called "Stane" and "Vanko", Harry couldn't help but be worried about his older brother.

Harry had never been more pleased that Tony was not present at the Battle of Hogwarts before in his life.

'_Protego_!' Harry shouted as a jet of sickly blue light flew towards him with the look and speed of a spell. Thankful that the pale blue shield appeared from the end of him wand to protect him for the immediate future, Harry spun around in a circle as another of the alien's kin - appearing quite intimidating in their identical looks - charged towards him. A quick explosive spell stopped the creature in it's tracks, sending pieces of it's strange, metallic-like shattered body flying through the air - and landing in Harry's side.

An unsavoury word leaked out of Harry's mouth as the shard of _something_ embedded itself in his side, and it was all he could do to throw up another Shield charm to protect himself from the sudden onslaught of the creatures at seeing his weakness.

'Bugger,' Harry muttered, feeling himself lose blood already as he held his hand to his side firmly. He yanked the piece of alien out of his body, and luckily for him, one of the modules of training to be an Auror was moderate healing spells for the short gap between injury and Saint Mungo's.

'_Sarcio_.' And from the wand tip came a soft haze of light purple, leaving in its wake after dissipating a thin layer of pink and raw skin that was easily breakable - but it would have to do. A quick _Ferula_ bandaged up his side quickly to prevent too much bleeding for when the skin did eventually split, and Harry was back in business even if he could feel some remaining shrapnel lodged into his side underneath the skin and bandages.

Jumping up, ignoring the stabbing pain in his side, Harry let down the shields and allowed the rampage of aliens to storm at him.

One strong Reductor Curse knocked aside four of the creatures in one blow with a relatively small flick of his wand, and one more was stilled by Harry shouting '_Impedimenta_!' last minute just as it was about to stab Harry through the chest when he turned around suddenly.

A sudden idea struck Harry as he spun in a circle, completely set on his task as he meticulously surveyed his opponents, a side affect from the Auror program that he very much wanted.

Readying himself on the balls of his feet, Harry crouched down slightly and held his wand straight out from his body, raising his voice as he spoke.

'_Immobulus_!' He spun in a circle, allowing the spell to carry to all of the aliens around him as he went, happy that they were all freezing in their attacking positions around him.

True to his memories of Hermione's performance of the charm in their Second Year, the alien creatures did indeed still - but then they collapsed to the dusty concrete, limp and boneless. Harry's brow creased as he looked at the things surrounding him, and after a small moment of hesitation, he nudged the closest one to him with his foot. Nothing happened.

He kicked it. Nothing happened.

Raising his head to look around for more sparring partners, letting go the fact that the spell seemed to have put the creatures permanently out of business, Harry saw, shocked, that all of the other aliens had collapsed to the ground in exactly the same manner as the ones closest to him.

'What the hell …?' Harry questioned to thin air as he looked around a little more, spinning on his feet and running his hand through his hair.

It was only out of the corner of his eye that he saw the portal close and a small, red-looking figure that looked like a man plummet to the ground.

Harry's heart stopped.

Surely not … no Tony wouldn't … he wouldn't do that -

- But he would, whispered a nasty little voice in the back of Harry's head. He would if he thought it was the best option available.

Harry barely saw the green-man-thing that something told him was called the "Hulk" pluck his older brother from the air, nor did he see the Police or Ambulance's swarm the area in which he was walking. All of his attention and focus was directed into making his way - slowly but surely - to the place in which Tony had fallen to.

Harry had to make sure he was okay. He had to.

And so it was, that Harry found himself about an hour later, stumbling through the streets of the ravaged city, looking all around for where his brother might be, or had been or was - any indication, really, that Tony Stark was still alive.

This was the man who had taken in a small and skinny little eleven year old boy at the age of eighteen, and had cared for him like no other ever had in that boy's life. They had bonded and _clicked_ much over that summer holiday following his first year, with each brother educating the other on something brand new and truly fascinating.

Harry had discovered science, and more specifically, physics - interested in the parallels and the differences between magic and the laws of physics, Harry had spent many hours researching and storing the information in his forever buzzing brain. Tony, however, had discovered magic, and despite not being able to sway Harry on illegally performing some for him to study, Tony had poured over the volumes of school textbooks that Harry had brought home, collecting the new information about the new world that he and his little brother had been inducted into.

Both brothers learnt a lot from that particular summer, and when Tony saw Harry off just outside Kings Cross Station before going off to another year at Hogwarts, Harry was more than a little certain that there was a tear in his brother's eye - not that Harry commented on it considering he was just as bad.

Harry had been given a family on that quiet afternoon in Little Whinging when a sleek black Rolls-Royce had pulled up outside number four, and he wasn't about to give it up for anything.

It was when he was walking past a small joint that seemed to sell some sort of Middle-Eastern food when he saw the dark hair of his brother. Of course, it took more than one glance for Harry to see that it was actually Tony, considering his eyes were a tad irritated due to dust getting under his contact lenses uncomfortably.

A sudden anger welling up inside him, Harry marched into the shop, speaking loudly and uncaring of the company surrounding his brother.

'Come to New York, you said,' Harry started off with, watching his brother's eyes widen comically and his jaw drop low at Harry's appearance. 'It'll be fun, you can see the tower when it's finished. Have a nice, _relaxing_ holiday.'

There was a long moment of silence in which Harry presumed Tony was getting his thoughts in order. Clearly, he had not thought that Harry would be coming to visit him at this time. Or, he had just forgotten.

'I sent you a text. I did tell you not to come -'

'Tony, I was on a plane! You do know that for normal people a plane from London to here takes about seven hours -'

'I offered to let you use the private jet -'

'We are not going off topic on this one!' Harry shouted, and you could hear a pin drop in the shocked silence of the joint. 'What the hell were you thinking? You're a complete _idiot_! Who the hell flies into outer space in just a tin can for fun?'

'It's not a tin can; just because you and electricity don't mix doesn't mean anything with it is inept! Besides, it wasn't for fun … there was a nuke involved -'

'The sea is _right there_ -'

'Tsunami!'

'Oh my _God_ I'm just trying to make sure you don't kill yourself, apologies for being concerned -'

'Apology accepted, now would you like some Shawarma?'

Harry glared at his brother, but the need for food after such a surprisingly exhausting battle overrode the need to punch Tony in the face. Grudgingly, Harry sat down in the drawn out chair next to Tony, pulling a spare plate of meat-something towards him.

'You're paying.' Harry said, before taking a big bite and nearly sighing out loud in relief.

Tony looked affronted. 'Hang on, I went through an inter-dimensional wormhole today, doesn't that count for anything in the not-paying tally?'

'Nope,' Harry replied, 'You're the billionaire in this situation.'

Tony leant back in his chair and whined. 'But we split the company fifty-fifty -'

'I don't have any money with me.' Harry said decisively. 'And if you don't pay I'll set Kreacher on you.'

'_No_! You know he hates me!' Tony looked at Harry in horror.

'Exactly,' Harry replied seriously, taking his brother's Shawarma and taking a bit out of it, moaning at how nice food was after what seemed like an age of not having it.

Harry slid down slightly in his chair, and looked around at the company he and his brother held, all staring at him with varying expressions.

Sitting to Harry's immediate right was a heavy-set man with shoulder-length blonde hair, decked out in some kind of armour that reminded Harry a little of dragon hide. On his back, Harry was amused and surprised to see a deep red cape, that looked to be made out of some fine, expensive material. He was looking at Harry curiously, scrutinizing him uncomfortably - Harry decided he would switch his gaze to the man at the right head of the table, who was sitting next to the caped man.

This man, too, had blonde hair, though it was cut into a conservative style that was rather old-fashioned and relatively neat considering he had just emerged from battle. He was dressed in clothing that was so blatantly American that it nearly made Harry snort in laughter out loud. He was looking at Harry in a reserved and defensive manner, as if trying to hold judgment on Harry whilst also trying to assess whether or not he was a threat. Lying on his lap being clutched in his hands was a round shield looking thing, that was also plastered in red white and blue, and it was then that it struck Harry that this must be Captain America.

That explained his outfit and shield then.

The two opposite Harry were both the most menacing looking and the most official looking out of the motley group he was surrounded with. The woman on the right had a short hairstyle that was bright red and reminded Harry fondly of the Weasley's - though her face certainly didn't, as it was pulled into a scowl directed straight at him. She looked both suspicious and intimidating, the gun that lay uncomfortably close to her hand on the table, which Harry presumed was hers, just as black as the clothes she was wearing, under which Harry was near certain he could see the outlines of several other weapons about her body. She and what looked like her partner beside her appeared to be some form of spy, or assassins.

The man next to her, with short dark blonde hair, had his leg resting on the back of her chair, wore exactly the same kind of clothes as she was but in what seemed to be the male edition. His face seemed to hold nearly the same kind of expression as the woman next to him, but with a hint of something akin to a fierce protectiveness. Oddly, he was fingering a bow, and Harry wondered why he would choose such a relatively mundane weapon before Harry remembered that it didn't matter what you chose to wield, as long as you could use it well you could be nearly invincible.

The last man on the table before Harry's eyes got back to Tony was the least threatening looking. He was dressed in ordinary clothes; a simple shirt and a pair of dark jeans, with normal brown hair and eyes - but all of this normalcy made Harry think that perhaps he was the least normal out of all of them. He held no weapon either, and was looking at Harry with a sort of resigned interest, as thought preparing himself for yet another big adventure that he was going to be dragged on - he just wasn't sure whether he was going to like it much or not.

'Er,' Harry looked closely at the ordinary looking man, who was the person that had spoken, albeit quite awkwardly.

'Who are you?' Said the woman opposite forcefully, her glare intensifying as she asked her question.

Harry looked up at the redhead, glanced at his brother who was grinning slyly, knew exactly where his brother wanted to go with this, and obliged.

'Harry Stark,' Harry said absent-mindedly, taking another bite of his brother's Shawarma, grinning into it. He heard an exasperated sigh and a confused, tired '_What_?'.

'There _are_ no other Stark's,' The Captain said slowly, as if not trusting his own words. Although, he probably didn't know a lot about most things in the century, so perhaps he was entitled to a bit of self-doubt for the time being.

At that moment, Tony spoke up, the smile in his voice evident even though Harry wasn't even looking remotely in his direction.

'Harry's my brother,' he said, putting an arm around Harry's shoulders and refusing to let it be shaken off. Harry glared at him. 'Kid brother, anyway.'

There was a long moment of silence in which Harry shifted uncomfortably as five pairs of eyes pressed into and flickered between himself and Tony.

'How is that relevant?' Harry asked his brother to try and diffuse the tension and silence, just before the man to his right said in a loud, booming voice,

'I was not aware that you had a younger brother, Anthony,' he paused, looking Harry up and down. 'The resemblance is uncanny.'

Harry frowned and looked down at himself. He had never really thought that he looked too much like his brother, but apparently so. A quick glance at Tony revealed that he, too, felt the same way. The brothers exchanged a confused glance.

'You have a _brother_?' The man who Harry thought was the Captain said weakly, holding his head in his hands.

'There's two of them.' The agent type man said with a straight face and monotonal voice. 'I think now might be a good time to retire.'

'What? How did you stay away from the tabloids -'

'It is a pleasure to meet you, son of Stark,' the caped man said cheerfully, interrupting the ordinary looking man on the left end of the table, 'my name is Thor Odinson, but you may refer to me as Thor,'

'O_kay_,' Harry said, shaking Thor's hand (or, allowing Thor to crush his hand for a few seconds). 'Is this guy for real?' He whispered out of the corner of his mouth to his brother behind him, to which Tony rather smugly replied,

'Real deal. From Asgard and everything,'

Harry whistled lowly, and was about to turn back around to reclaim the Shawarma that was being retaken by Tony before Thor said something completely unexpected.

'It is an honour to meet a user of … magic? I believe that is what you Midgardian people call the Seidr.'

Tony promptly spit out the bottled water that he was drinking all over the portion of food to his left, and turned to stare at Thor with wide eyes. Meanwhile, the man next to him, who looked only mildly annoyed that his food was now drenched in second-hand water, looked up at Thor too, raising an eyebrow.

'Thor, magic doesn't exist on Midgard. It's a myth.'

'You cannot sense it?' Thor said, apparently shocked at their ignorance. Tony and Harry exchanged uneasy glances. 'I had assumed that even those on Midgard could -'

'_Well_ then!' Tony shouted over Thor. 'That's enough of that! Harry, this is Thor, our resident Norse God of Thunder, as he said before,' Thor nodded and smiled widely. Tony then pointed to the blonde haired man in the all-American garb.

'Steve Rogers, aka Captain America, aka Capsicle, amongst other titles that I am yet to create,' Steve scowled at Tony and then smiled awkwardly at Harry. Tony then gestured to the two spy-agent-assassins across the table from them.

'Next we have the mildly terrifying Natasha Romanoff, or Black Widow,' Natasha glared at Harry with her arms crossed over her chest.

'Clint Barton aka Hawkeye, who shoots things with arrows,' Tony said with a bored tone, and Clint broke his intimidating persona to look offended at Harry's brother. Tony made a large, extortionate movement with his hand as he pointed out the last person around the table to Harry.

'And finally we have Bruce Banner, a scientist that has a tendency to turn into a giant green rage monster when the situation arises.' Bruce, who had stopped trying to pick off the dry pieces of his ruined meal after giving it up as a bad job, gave a sheepish look towards Harry. A spark of memory welled up in Harry's head.

'So that's who it was!' Harry exclaimed, brightening now he knew what the green-man-thing was. 'I was wondering about that. You don't usually see the Jolly Green Giant wandering around New York, I presume?'

Bruce looked taken aback as Tony laughed.

'Sir,' Natasha spoke for the first time, now standing and holding her gun in one hand with her other holding something in her ear. 'There's been a development with Stark.'

'Oh _come on_!' Tony said, throwing his hands up into the air. 'Not a little bit of slack? We just saved the city for God's sake, I thought we were taking a day off -'

While Tony rambled on, Harry turned to the Captain. 'Who is she talking to?'

The Captain looked quite uncomfortable, but still answered Harry as it appeared that he saw no reason not to answer.

'Most likely Director Fury - Nick Fury.'

Harry laughed. 'Nick Fury? Oh, _him_ I've met before.'

'Where'd you meet Director Fury?' Hawkeye interrupted, staring at Harry unwaveringly. Harry shrugged noncommittally as his brother and Black Widow continued to argue rather one-sidedly.

'He tried to recruit me for this initiative thing after I got rid of this guy a while back.' Harry said. 'I didn't accept. Getting involved in government agencies is never a good idea when you attract danger like it's the common cold.'

Those that were not arguing or a Norse God gawped at Harry.

* * *

**- I'm sorry that I haven't replied to any reviews; I had my prom and so had hardly any time! I did make the decision that you would rather a chapter than review replies, so that's what I worked on. I will be reviewing to this chapter's reviews.**

**I've decided that I will be going through Iron Man Three, but not in too much detail, due to the fact that this is going to be nearly entirely, if not all from Harry's perspective. Through the IM3 arc, I'm going to either be having Harry go off by himself and deal with a new enemy that will eventually involve all of the Avengers, or, AIM and the IM3 plot will be part of this new, bigger villain arc.**

**How would you feel about Peter Parker/Spider-Man being incorporated into this story?**

**Please, tell me your thoughts about what you would like to happen in this story, since I am still very undecided.**

**Thank you so much for reading and for the astounding amount of favourites, follows and reviews!**


	3. Furious Propaganda

**CHAPTER 2**

_Furious Propaganda_

* * *

The sudden thought that Harry may have been too vague drifted through his mind as it finally hit him that he was in the company of some of the most suspicious and intelligent people on the planet. Some might say that he was being dramatic - but having spent many a summer with his own brother, Harry felt that if anything, his inward statement was rather _under _exaggerated.

Harry would rather not think of the consequences that came with meeting Nick Fury again. After all, the last time they had met Harry had been damn near suicidal, having come out of a war in which he ended up being the foremost player, when everyone else to fill the position had died. Their meeting hadn't ended too well - Fury had pulled his gun on Harry and aiming at the exact point that Voldemort had just hours earlier, and Harry had drawn both his wand and the Elder wand on the man, positioning them inbetween the director's eyes.

The stand off hadn't, in the end, resulted in very much, but the promise of more guns and recruitment hassle echoed in Harry's memories like a sour tasting every flavour bean.

He should really get Tony to try them, his mind wondered absently.

It was only the mention of his surname that snapped Harry out of his reverie, and he had heard it in the clipped and professional tone of the Black Widow. Her speech was rapid despite the fact that they had all just emerged from battle, and her face was closed and pinched looking, as if in anger at herself for missing some important part of a puzzle.

'Tony,' Harry said, interrupting his brother who was in full flow or a biting reply to whatever Natasha had said to him before Harry had begun paying attention. 'If I run now, how long will my privacy be intact before SHIELD realises we're related and hunts me down?'

A pondering look breezed over Tony's face. 'About a week - without magic, anyway.'

Harry sighed. It looked like he was going to be reacquainted with the wonderful organisation that was SHIELD again.

As if by magic - or not, Harry thought - Natasha used the opportunity of Tony being briefly distracted from their argument to speak up to the group as a whole. Harry's brother, naturally, groaned in response to the lost bickering match, but none of the others even spared him the slightest glance, save for Natasha herself who threw a withering glare and the man before speaking.

'Director Fury will be at Stark tower shortly,' She stated crisply. 'He expects our new … _acquaintance_ to be present as well. By force _or_ free will.'

'It's not like I've got much chance of running away,' Harry said, some of the old bitterness seeping into his voice as Tony angrily protested in the background. 'Might as well do it on my own terms.'

Some of the others looked mildly surprised at his sudden change, from light-hearted to as bitter as an old man. But, then again, they knew nothing of Harry's life, or Harry. The only segment of his life they knew even a little about was his older brother, and Harry was near certain that they knew next to nothing about the _real_ Tony.

It was almost an assured fact to Harry that he had been through as much, if not more than any of them anticipated in his relatively short life, thank you very much. He just wanted to watch them realise as inch by reluctant inch a little more of Harry's past was revealed. He wasn't stupid - he knew that any semblance of complete privacy had now vanished along with the meeting of the rag-tag team called the Avengers. They were all far too nosy and curious for their own good.

The quiet procession through the battle-weary streets of New York was not uncomfortable, surprisingly, but perhaps that was only from Harry's point of view, considering he spent much of it talking with this brother about the pro's and con's of Arc Reactor technology. Of course, he quickly gave that up when Tony began using the miniaturised version in his chest as a guilt trip to try and win the debate that was quickly becoming an argument, and with an angered yell of swearing that had the assassins tense and go to their guns and earning a disapproving look from the Captain, Harry ended it.

Ah. There was nothing like getting on the wrong foot within half an hour of meeting someone.

It was when they reached the penthouse suite of the tower, all _very_ thankful that the lift was still working, that all hell broke loose - for the second time in that day.

Harry knew immediately that something was wrong - perhaps it was the still and seemingly lifeless bodies of what Harry presumed were two SHIELD agents lying haphazardly on the plush carpet, but Harry rather thought it was the sickening feeling of dread that crept into and fogged over his mind, raising the hairs on the back of his neck and sending goosebumps down his arms that made Harry's senses scream bloody murder at him.

'Something's wrong,' Harry said needlessly as the others entered the room behind him, panning out subconsciously as they all looked, simultaneously, over the shattered glass table, apparently dead bodies, and over in the corner lying discreetly abandoned, were a pair of ornate handcuffs beside an equally as grand muzzle.

It was Thor who shattered the silence, his booming voice reverberating throughout the room, anger clear and intent furious.

'Loki,' he growled, gripping his hammer tightly with one hand while the other was clenched into white-knuckled fist. 'It appears he has escaped his bonds. We must find him, before he causes more damage to the city,'

'Yeah, we worked that out for ourselves Point Break,' Tony said weakly, staring down at the bodies and broken Asgardian handcuffs. He looked over to Harry, his message clear - He wasn't an Auror for nothing, after all.

Without consulting the rest of the team that was not his, Harry strode quickly towards the two men on the floor, grabbing each wrist in each hand to feel if the blood was still pumping through their veins. Though some twist of fate, each man's pulse was present, and Harry sighed in relief.

'They're alive,' he shouted to the rest, though there was really no need as the only noise in the room was the slight shifting of feet from the Avengers as they surveyed the room around them.

'I'm going to have to ask you to step away,' a strong and harsh voice came from behind Harry - it was Agent Barton, equipped with a bow and arrow positioned perfectly to embed itself in Harry's temple at a moment's notice.

'Look,' Harry said, staring Barton in the eye. 'I'm a good guy. Don't you think I would have killed you all before now if I wasn't?'

'What's to say you could?' The Agent replied, one eyebrow raised as he looked Harry's admittedly not too impressive form up and down. Scowling, Harry was about to reply rather scathingly before someone else cut in.

'Watch it, Tweety.' Tony said, crossing his arms and going to stand beside Harry. 'Harry's quite capable of beating your -'

'Tony, shut up,' Harry murmured, at the same time that the Captain asked whether now was really the time.

'What?' Tony blinked, his shock startling him out of speech. 'I'm defending your honour, way to be grate -'

'Tony!' Harry shouted, holding out a hand subconsciously. Tony huffed and threw out his arms, but otherwise stayed silent.

Something was … _off_. Harry could sense it, _feel_ it, and it was in that moment that he truly understood what Dumbledore was doing during their search for Horcrux's all those years ago in the cave. He could fee something not right, something magical that wasn't supposed to be there …

It was Loki. It had to be.

'Loki's here.' Harry said, glancing up at the rest of those in the room individually. Cap looked worried, Banner looked exhausted, Barton and Romanoff seemed doubtful and Thor's face was both angry and resigned.

Harry didn't have to look at Tony to know his expression.

'I trust your assessment,' Thor rumbled fairly quietly, though his voice was still very much heard. 'Despite my dislike of it.'

Harry nodded to the Norse God, grateful for his easy acceptance. The others, however, apparently weren't too keen on the idea of Loki hanging around after escaping from his bonds.

'How do you know he's still here?' Agent Romanoff said, narrowing his eyes at Harry. 'Why would he stay?'

'I _don't know_,' Harry bit out, grinding his teeth. It was nothing against Natasha - more the rising sense of urgency and panic that he was feeling fill him up, almost like a precognitive consciousness telling him that something was going to happen _soon_.

'He's just - he's somewhere -' Harry's line of sight focused in on one area just behind Cap. There was a strange movement in the air - as if somebody was trying to blend into the background. Much like a Disillusionment charm, but much better and far more advanced than one that the standard, average wizard would be able to produce.

Without thinking, Harry shot a stunner at the shape, certain it was Loki, but instead of causing him to fall unconscious, the man simply revealed himself to the rest of the room and sidestepped Harry's spell.

'A fellow sorcerer,' Loki said, with a slight smile, making others in the room jump nearly a foot and Tony to grumble. 'How … _intriguing_.'

It was a mere flick of the wrist that nearly sent Harry flying across the room or something of the like - and it was only the quick, knee-jerk reaction of which Harry naturally possessed that threw up a shield charm just in time to prevent that.

Not one to take anything lying down, Harry threw a curse that was not necessarily nasty, but more experimental, testing the boundaries of Loki's skill - thought he doubted that it was very limited.

As Harry suspected, it was with a dry laugh that the supposed God brushed aside the jet of light soaring through the air at him, directing it towards and out of the broken window seamlessly, disappearing off into the distance.

Apparently, Loki was very powerful - as if Harry didn't know that already - but that didn't mean that Harry couldn't hold his own against the man.

He fought dark wizards for a living, after all.

Harry knelt over, playing that he was injured or something of the like - which he really was, but he wasn't going to reveal that now - before calculating looking up at Loki through his hair and eyelashes.

'_Reducto_!' Harry shouted, jolting upright, using the element of surprise to his advantage as Loki's mildly shocked face was blasted into the wall. Grinning, Harry threw a blasting curse into the wall next to his opponent, making sure he was distracted, before - a blue tipped arrow plunged itself into Loki's leg, making his body slump to the floor and eyes droop until they were closed.

'Do you mind?' Harry said angrily, straightening himself up. 'He was the first good match for me in -'

'What are you?' Was the quiet and angered voice of Captain America, shield in position and knees slightly bent for maximum flexibility.

Harry gawked as he looked at the Captain. Never before had he been asked _what_ he was, and it was more out of shock than offence that he did not reply. It had also hit home to Harry that he had just used quite a substantial and impossible-to-cover-up amount of magic in front of four muggles - super-powered muggles with amazing abilities and minds, but muggles nonetheless. (Thor didn't really count in Harry's book, considering the fact that he seemed to be able to sense that Harry had magical capabilities, and also that apparently, upon Asgard, magic was quite common.)

Tony, though, seemed to be much more bothered by that statement than Harry.

'Excuse me?' He said, voice calm in a way that was unnatural and hinted at something that definitely was _not_ calm to come. '_What _is he?'

Suddenly, a look of realisation of what he had said passed over Steve's face, and immediately he backtracked, trying to claw back his words into his throat. 'I didn't mean -'

'Oh you meant it,' Tony snarled, fists clenched in pent up anger, 'but I'll tell you _what_ he is - he is my _brother_, you pathetic excuse for a science experiment. Don't you _ever_ insinuate again that he is anything less than human -'

'Tony,' Harry interjected, trying to calm his older brother down before he did something that he would later regret. 'It's fine, he didn't mean it like that, you know he didn't -'

'They don't know what happened!' Tony exploded, twisting around to speak directly to Harry. 'They don't know that you will stew on that for the next God knows how long, they don't know about all of those disgusting and horrible racist posters, and leaflets, and -'

Oh.

Throughout the events of that year, it was easy for Harry to forget about all of the propaganda shown and paraded about the Wizarding world by the corrupt Ministry. When he had Horcrux's to find, and a Dark Lord to kill, it was easy for him to not notice _Mudblood_ and _Blood Traitor _and _Vermin_ being slipped into conversation as easily as spells were during a duel - especially due to the fact that he had spent so long in isolation from the community. But for Tony, someone who had not been in the midst of it all when it was happening, it was even more revolting, knowing that your own brother had been repeatedly labelled as scum and that you had no idea, that you weren't even aware of where he was. It was amazing what a semi-intelligent man with a knack for graphic design could do, after all.

'Tony, I know I'm not a - well,' Harry said, arms out and palms splayed open in a placating manner. 'You know what I mean. We should probably concentrate on what's important here, like Loki and getting on Fury's nerves.'

'I would rather focus on you, Potter.' Harry didn't even have to turn around, to know that Nick Fury had entered the room.

The Director strode into the room, eye patch and long jacket intact, surveying the scene before looking back at the Avengers and Harry. 'Doctor Banner,' he said, nodding at Bruce. 'Glad to see you're back.'

Bruce shrugged, looking tired. 'Guess I took out all my anger,' he said, smiling wryly.

Fury's attention was drawn back to Harry. Crossing his arms, he stared Harry down, a mixture of both distaste and suspicion written across his features.

'You haven't grown since I last saw you.' He said, a glint of malicious happiness glimmering in his eyes.

_Well then_.

'You're still missing an eye,' Harry replied, crossing his arms and mirroring the actions of both the Director and now, his brother. 'Are they refusing to give you a glass one? Have you started a petition yet?'

Nearly growling, Fury took a step closer to Harry. 'Why are you here, Potter?'

Harry raised an eyebrow. 'Can't I visit family in New York without secret agencies stalking me?'

'You don't _have_ any family.' He replied, his expression all too clear of I-have-so-many-better-things-to-be-doing-right-now -than-talking-to-you.

'Rude,' Tony interjected, now over by the bar, nursing a glass of amber liquid.

There was, perhaps, a full thirty seconds before Fury appeared to know what was going on. Harry could almost hear the cogs whirring inside that bald head of his, and it was all too clear why his eyes flickered more than a couple of times between Harry and Tony.

'Are you telling me,' Fury said slowly, 'that the Boy-Who-Lived is related in some way to Tony Stark?'

Harry grinned the grin that had infuriated the other man so many years ago, as well as in the recent ones.

'Oh, we're not just related,' he said, smiling a bit manically now, accepting the drink that Tony offered him. He took a long sip, and let out an invigorated breath. 'We're brothers.'

Fury ran a hand over his face, groaning. 'I do _not_ need this,' he said.

* * *

**- I am so sorry for the wait! Over the time I've been away a massive amount of stuff has happened - I had family and family friends coming up to stay for two weeks, a wedding in Devon, GCSE results, sixth form enrollment, and buying things for sixth form, which I still haven't finished! Hopefully this chapter flows all right, considering this was mostly written in the in between moments I had to spare amongst all of that.**

**About Tony's reaction to Steve's comment - I believe that the propaganda set about by the Ministry during that last year was much worse than directly described. It was blatant and complete racism, and the effects that that must have had upon the people labelled 'Mudbloods' and 'Blood Traitors' must have been large, even if they had complete faith in what they were standing for and against like the Weasley's did. Being discriminated against for something like your blood status is something that is vile and detrimental to you as a person, especially considering it is something that you cannot help and cannot control. I imagine Tony would be much more angry at this than Harry, simply because he does not fully understand the way that the Wizarding world works and the differences between it and the Muggle one. In the Muggle world, which is much bigger, the sort of open discrimination displayed in the Wizarding world during wartime would never be tolerated, but considering the WW is much more insular and smaller compared to the Muggle world, and the fact that blood purity racism is already a part of life there even when Harry was eleven or twelve, years before war broke out, it is accepted as something that is there - even though it shouldn't be. Tony would get very angry about Harry being referred to as 'it', as he can't get his head around how bad the WW was, how behind it was in acceptance compared to the Muggle one, and also the fact that Harry bore the brunt of the discrimination, considering he was not only the 'Chosen One' but also Muggle Born. Racism should never have to be tolerated.**

**Anyway - thank you so much for reading!**

**- Spellmugwump**


	4. AN

**Hello -**

**I'd like to start by saying sorry for conning you into believing that this is a new chapter when it's not - just a note from me and a little spoiler. I've come to a huge decision regarding this fic, and I promise, it's not all bad; I'm going to start again, of sorts. I just decided that if I was going to do this thing properly, then I would have to start at the beginning - meaning, when Tony first discovers about Harry. It's all very willing, obviously! I just think I should portray the story better than I already have, so I'm going to start afresh with hopefully much better writing and direction.**

**I think I'm going to call it 'We'll Be Okay, Kid', (unless something better comes along, do you have any suggestions?), and hopefully you'll all enjoy the newest installment of this story. I'm sorry if you don't like the change! But I just think I'll be able to tell a much better story this way.**

**So, without further ado - here's a small excerpt from the very beginning of the new story. :)**

* * *

Tony knew he should have been more upset when his parents died.

Maybe there was something wrong with him - it wouldn't be too far off considering lots of people with his level of genius went completely insane - but maybe it was simply because Howard and Maria had become little more than acquaintances that shared the same hollow, expansive space that was Tony's childhood home.

Most people would find it sad, that Tony couldn't even force a few tears at his own parents' funeral, but he simply found it expected, if a little annoying considering those that noticed were likely to kick up a fuss - namely, the media and their preying, hawk-like eyes.

Drawing his mind away from the lack of salty liquid in his own eyes, Tony felt a little bad that his thoughts had taken the track of not caring about the people who had, like it or not, brought him into the world. Of course he was upset, they were his parents for God's sake; they had cared for him a little bit at least, through the haze of alcohol and absences - Howard on his escapades to somewhere cold that Tony didn't bother to remember, Maria off to Italy as soon as Tony could walk to go and relive the old times with the family and friends that he'd only met twice.

They were probably both having affairs, Tony thought wryly.

Either way - there might be a little bit of truth in the speech that he had been asked to give in the service. Just a little.

Hidden under the shadow of an overly large umbrella, Tony left the church with Obie by his side, glad that he had at least his father's old friend by his side to guide him against the harsh rain and glaring camera flashes.

It was so unbelievably stereotypical that Tony actually snorted - Obie put it down to grief.

And now, here he was sat in an old, musty attic a couple of months later, being forced to root through the remnants of his parent's lives. _Joy_.

There was endless blueprints and plans and sheets upon sheets of decades old paper, for things like weaponry and model cities as well as chunks of metal that looked like long abandoned prototypes that were in the boxes labelled 'HS'. They was a stark difference to the boxes that contained his mother's things - designer dresses that were probably worth a fortune as well as stacks of books and paper and journals filled them to the brim.

Coughing, Tony reached for and yanked a large cardboard box that he had not anticipated to be quite so heavy, assuming that it held clothes like its neighbours - and it fell to the floor, upending its contents onto the dusty floorboards.

Swearing, Tony went to kneel down before remembering that these were _very_ expensive trousers - even by his standards.

He awkwardly squatted instead.

* * *

**I hope you thought that was all right and that it makes you want to pursue this story again! I'll leave this notice up for a little while, maybe for a couple of weeks to a month. I will be deleting this story after there's a couple of chapters up on the other; I'm sorry!**

**Hope to see you again. :)**


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